


Sweetly Spiraling

by captainjaybird



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:56:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1997490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainjaybird/pseuds/captainjaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day Alison Hendrix learns she's a human clone, her tightly controlled life starts to fall apart. Content warnings for substance abuse and mental illness. Soccercop in part 1 if you squint.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweetly Spiraling

The day she learns she’s a human clone, Alison Hendrix’s neat little world comes screeching to a halt. _This does not happen to women like her._ Alison was a cheerleader, she maintained straight A’s, she went to college, and she married her high school sweetheart. Sure, she had to adjust her plans a little when she and Donnie had learned of her infertility, but they had adopted two beautiful children Alison would do anything to protect. She is not a human clone. It’s impossible.

“I’m sorry,” Detective Elizabeth Childs says over her denials, standing on her doorstep. “I didn’t want to believe it either. But I have proof.”

“What, your face?” Alison laughs brokenly. Yes, looking at the policewoman is like looking directly in a mirror. But Alison once read that the average person has about six unrelated doppelgangers who look just like them. It’s just a cruel stroke of irony that one of hers happens to live in her town. “That’s not proof enough for me.”

“I didn’t think it would be,” Detective Childs says. “If I could just have a blood sample—”

“Are you insane?” Alison hisses. “Get your sorry behind out of here before my children see you.”

“Your children could be in danger,” Detective Childs says, “if you don’t listen to me.”

That stops Alison cold. Oscar and Gemma are everything to her. Could they really be unsafe?

“Fine,” she says. “But not here. We need to talk about this somewhere else. Not in Scarborough.”

The other woman looks slightly relieved, and agrees. She hands Alison a card with her name and contact information on it. “Call me,” she says, “when you’re ready. But it needs to be soon.” With that, she gets in her car and drives away. Alison turns the card over in her hands, numb.

 

Alison arrives at the café before the detective. She’s always believed that being early is a necessity, rather than a courtesy. The coffee shop is busy, and Alison is glad. Hopefully that means no one will notice her and Detective Childs. The brunette orders her typical nonfat sugar-free vanilla latte, and finds a seat by the window. She likes that this gives her the advantage of seeing the policewoman before she sees her. A few minutes later, Detective Childs comes up to the coffee shop, and she sits down across from Alison after ordering her plain black coffee.

“Detective Childs,” Alison says.

“Please, call me Beth,” her doppelganger replies. Alison would prefer not to be so familiar with this woman, but her ingrained sense of social etiquette makes her play along. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t call,” Beth continues.

“I’m very busy,” Alison replies stiffly. “Taking care of Oscar and Gemma, keeping the house in order, organizing the neighborhood potlucks. I like to keep my life running smoothly.”

“I’m sorry to throw a wrench in that,” Beth sighs. “I brought the evidence you wanted.” With that, the brunette pulls out a folder and places it on the table. “Katja Obinger,” she says, showing Alison the passport of a woman who looks just like her with short, red hair. “Danielle Fortier.” Another Alison, this time French. “Janika Zingler.” This one looks like the housewife if she had given up on makeup and straightening her hair. “Aryanna Giordano.” An Italian. “And me, Elizabeth Childs.” Alison’s head is spinning out. This is impossible.

“No,” she says. “No, no. You must have altered these photos. This is a sick joke. I’m not having it.”

“It’s not.” Beth’s voice is gentle. “And I think you know that.” She reaches across the table to cover Alison’s hand comfortingly, and the horrified woman pulls away as if scalded.

“Don’t touch me,” she snaps. “Just, don’t. I can’t handle this.”

“Let me help you,” Beth says. “I went through this a month ago. It gets easier, I promise.”

Alison laughs bitterly. “Easier? _Easier?_ I just found out I’m a freak, not even a real person, and you’re telling me it gets easier?”

“We _are_ real people,” Beth says fiercely. “We might’ve been made in a lab, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t real.”

“My family can never know,” Alison speaks to herself. “They’re never finding this out.” She looks at Beth. “What do I need to do to keep this under control?”

“Nothing right now,” Beth replies. “But I’ll keep in touch.” She hands Alison a phone with a pink cover. “Here, take this. It’s just for this, clone business. It keeps it separate.”

Alison takes it, but says “Please don’t use that word. The c-word.”

“Okay,” Beth agrees. “No c-word. I’ve got to get back to the station. My lunch break is almost over.”

Alison nods, and sits in the café long after Beth has left, shellshocked. _This is real,_ she thinks, _this is real._

 

When she gets home, Alison goes straight for the liquor cabinet. Wine is not enough for this. She takes a gulp of vodka straight from the bottle. It doesn’t help. She heads to the bathroom, taking the alcohol with her. _Happy pills,_ she thinks. _I need them now._ She pops two Xanax into her mouth, washes them down with more vodka. Alison sinks to the floor, leaning against the sink. She feels like she’s not even in her body.

 _Of course I don’t feel like I’m in my body,_ she reflects bitterly. _My body’s fake. My life is fake. Everything I’ve ever known is fake. Nothing is real anymore._ The room is spinning, and Alison doesn’t think it has a thing to do with her pills or her drink. She puts her head on her knees and closes her eyes. She stays there until she hears her children come home.

 

People are chasing her. Alison is breathing hard, lungs burning. She’s running through the streets of her neighborhood, but no one’s coming out to help her. “Donnie!” she screams desperately. “Aynsley! Anyone, please!” They’re catching up to her. She sees them, in their white lab coats, syringes with big needles in hand. Their lights are bright, blinding her.

“Stop, Alison!” they say to her. “We have your children.” The brunette freezes. She can see them now. They’re in a cage, crying, and the scientists are observing at them, taking notes. Others are coming, and they grab her. Alison can only stare at Oscar and Gemma.

“No!” Alison sits straight up in bed. “Oh. Oh god.”

“What’zz it?” Donnie mumbles sleepily.

“Nothing,” Alison lies. “Go back to sleep, Donnie.”

As soon as her husband starts snoring again, Alison digs out her pink clone phone and goes into the kitchen. She pours herself a drink and calls Beth. _Please answer,_ she thinks. _Please._ Beth sounds groggy when she picks up.

“Alison?”

“Beth,” the housewife says. “I need you to teach me how to shoot. To keep my family safe.”

“Do you even have a gun?” the cop asks.

“I can get one. Will you please just do this for me?”

“Okay,” Beth agrees, and Alison goes back to the bedroom. It takes her a long time to fall asleep.

 

It takes a week, but Ramon comes through and gets Alison a handgun. It’s a Walther P99, which Beth had told her was a better size for a woman’s grip. The cold metal instrument scares Alison. She hadn’t really prepared herself for what the weapon would mean. She wonders how Beth does it, carries one all the time. _She’s a strong woman,_ Alison reflects. The thought is comforting.

Beth meets her at the gun range. The first thing she does is show Alison how to load the gun, but before she gives it to her to try she says “ _Never_ point this gun at anything or anyone you’re not prepared to shoot, and to kill. Not _ever._ You got that?” Alison has never seen her look so serious, not even when she was telling her she was a clone.

“Yes. Have you ever killed anyone?” It’s spilled out of her lips before she’s realized it, and Alison puts one hand over her mouth, horrified. “I’m sorry, that was incredibly rude—”

“No,” Beth answers, solemn. “I hope I never have to.”

The detective shows her the proper stance, arms out, legs evenly spaced, both hands on the gun (“for stability,” she says). She steps behind Alison and corrects her position a little bit. Alison contemplates how odd it is to have someone who looks exactly like her touching her. She doesn’t know how she feels about it. “That’s better,” Beth says. “Now pull the trigger.”

Alison shoots. The kickback surprises her. “You’ll get used to it,” Beth laughs a little at the surprised expression on her face. “I promise.” It takes a while and a few rounds of ammunition, but Alison does get used to it. It isn’t too long after that that she starts hitting the targets consistently. “You’re a good shot,” the cop compliments her. “Maybe it’s genetic.”

“Well, thank you,” Alison says rigidly. She hates to be reminded that they’re clones— _genetic identicals,_ she decides, _is the better term._ “I think I’d better leave now. Oscar and Gemma will be home from school soon.”

“Wait,” Beth touches her arm. “I have something else to tell you.” Alison feels dread crawling up through her. _What new lies has she discovered? Are there traitors?_ She can feel her thoughts starting to go faster and faster.

“What?” she manages. “What new, awful thing is there?”

“This isn’t awful,” Beth says gently. “It’s another one of us. Her name is Cosima Niehaus. She’s a scientist, and I think she may be able to help us.”

“A scientist,” Alison repeats. “Where is she?”

“Minneapolis,” Beth answers. “But I’ve made contact, and she took the news well. She seemed fascinated, actually. She’s already started investigating our DNA.”

“Is something wrong with it?” Alison asks sharply. Something new to worry about. She wonders if her life will ever stop unraveling.

“No, we don’t think so,” Beth says. “Katja is sick, but since none of the rest of us are it’s probably unrelated. But Cosima’s ‘following the science’ to be sure.”

“Oh,” Alison breathes. “So, Cosima does the science, and you find us through your police contacts.” The housewife feels useless. They at least can do something, can find some control over their lives. She has nothing, except—

“I can help too,” she says decisively. “Financially. A, a fund to help with research and investigating.”

Beth is looking at her with new respect. “You’d do that?”

“Yes,” Alison feels certainty setting in. “It’s what I can do.”

The detective smiles. “It’ll help a lot. Thank you, Alison.”

After that, there isn’t much more to say. The clones tell each other goodbye, and get in their respective cars. Alison hides her handgun in her purse before driving away. It makes her feel safer.

 

On her way home, Alison decides to see Aynsley. The taller woman is her best friend, and she needs the normalcy of it. They’re been neighbors for seven years, and friends for six. Aynsley’s always known Alison’s secrets, and vice versa. The brunette wishes she could tell her this—the science experiment plot her life has become. It weighs down her feet as she walks up to her friend’s doorstep.

“Alison!” Aynsley embraces her. “Come in, have a glass of wine.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “You look like you could use one, or two.” She winks.

Alison laughs, and feels a little of the heaviness leave her chest. She hadn’t talked to Aynsley much the last few weeks with everything that’d been going on, and she had missed her. “It’s been a rough few weeks.”

“More troubles with Donnie?” the blonde says sympathetically. “Ali, I keep telling you, you need to tell him what’s what.”

Alison latches onto that explanation for her misery as if it’s the life raft that will save her from drowning. “I know, I know,” she says. “The kids—”

“—will be much happier if mommy and daddy are getting along again,” Aynsley finishes. “You’ve got to stop making excuses, Alison.”

The shorter woman sighs and takes a large gulp of her wine, taking the time to savor it in her mouth. Ansley’s always had excellent taste. When she’s done, she says “I just don’t know how to tell him things have fizzled out. We’ve been sweethearts since high school. And I still love him, I’m sure of it.” The last statement is as much to reassure herself as it is for Aynsley.

“Of course you do,” her friend says. “I still love Chad, even after all his…his indiscretions.” Alison knows she can’t bear to say the word ‘cheating’ out loud. She doesn’t know what she’d do if Donnie did that to her.

“He’s been faithful for a while now,” Alison comforts her. “I’m sure he’s realized that what he did was inexcusable.” She has her private doubts, but doesn’t say them. There’s no need for that kind of cruelty, especially when both of them know her kind words are a lie. Chad still flirts with every attractive woman he lays eyes on.

Aynsley sniffs. “Oh Alison,” she says, leaning on her. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The clone puts her arm around her friend. She so desperately wants to tell her her secret. Alison opens her mouth, closes it. She sighs. There’s nothing to say. Alison feels a distance growing between her and Ansley, and sadness begins to settle in her stomach.

 _Beth is the only one I can trust,_ she realizes. _The only one who knows what’s going on and can help me. Everyone else is a danger if they know._ She holds Aynsley, and wishes that were enough. But she knows it isn’t.

 

It’s a few days later the first time it happens. Alison has just woken up and it’s time to put her face on in the mirror. She stares at the woman looking back at her. She has no idea who it is. She can’t recognize her at all. Alison reaches out to touch the mirror, and the woman reaches back. The brunette holds her hand there, splayed, and breathes hard through her nose. It’s her. It has to be her. So why does the face looking back seem so different?

“It’s not just my face,” Alison whispers, horrified. “It’s her face, and her face, dozens, hundreds of women with my face.” _Are they me,_ she thinks, _or am I them?_ She can feel herself starting to spin out again. The housewife wants to lose herself in it, lose all her responsibilities and fears. It would be so easy, to slip away. The shadows seem like they’re just barely moving out of the corner of her vision.

Alison finds her eyes in the reflection. They’re the only things she recognizes. They stare back at her, terrified. The room feels very small, and Alison steps back. She doesn’t need to put on makeup today, she decides. As she leaves, the shaken woman refuses to look back at the mirror.

 

“Someone is killing us.” Alison feels the fragile stability she has been balancing her reality on shatter. _Killing us someone is killing us_ her mind whispers.  _Dead they’re dead I’m dead we’re dead dying no we’re dying we’re—_ “Alison!” Beth is kneeling down, hand on her face, looking into her eyes. “Alison!” The clone realizes she must have fallen. Funny, she can’t feel it at all. She laughs, hysterically.

“Alison!” Beth is shaking her shoulders. “Al, pull it together! We can’t survive this if you’ve lost your damn mind!” Her voice raises on the last part, and Alison realizes Beth is scared. _Beth_ is scared. Beth, who is brave, and strong, and capable, and she is only Alison. Scared, useless, suburban Alison, who only ever wanted to live her life quietly.

“Oh god…” she moans. “Beth, I can’t _do_ this, I can’t—”

“You have to,” Beth says. “We have to. I’ll do everything I can to keep you and your family safe, I promise.”

“You’re only one effing person!” Alison screeches. “One effing person, and the people who are killing us are probably whoever made us, and they probably have money, and resources, and—”

“Alison, _calm down._ ” Beth is firm. “This isn’t helping anything, you have to be calm.” Alison tries. She manages to get her outward appearance to be less panicked, but she can’t stop the spinning she’s feeling. She still feels like screaming.

“Okay,” she whispers, because she’s afraid she _will_ scream if she speaks any louder. “Okay.”

Beth looks relieved. “Whoever they are, they aren’t here yet. All the killings so far have been in Europe.” Alison feels the bands around her chest loosen, just slightly. Europe is far away. Europe isn’t _home._ Europe isn’t even the godawful United States (Alison has always disdained their rough cowboy culture).

“Who’s dead?” she asks. “Is it…is it anyone we know?”

“Yes.” Alison has never seen Beth look so sad. She’s barely ever seen the cop lose her composure. It’s unsettling. “Danielle. Janika. And Aryanna.” She pauses. “Katja has gone into deep hiding.”

“That’s _half_ of us,” Alison gasps, “and you’re only just telling me _now?_ ”

“I only just found out,” Beth says. She looks incredibly tired. “I came as soon as I could.” The detective pauses. “Do you want me to stay the night? I know you’re probably freaked out, and I can think of something to tell Paul in the morning.”

The offer is incredibly tempting. Beth does make Alison feel safe. But she can’t risk Donnie or the kids seeing her “twin” when they wake up. “No,” she sighs, “I’ll be alright, thank you.”

Beth asks her if she’s sure, and Alison assures her that she is before showing her out the door. Impulsively, she hugs Beth before she leaves. The other woman stiffens momentarily, and then relaxes into the hug, rubbing Alison’s back. “Take care, Beth,” Alison whispers as she lets go. “Stay safe.”

“You too,” Beth replies, and leaves. Alison feels incredibly alone.

 

It’s barely ten minutes after Beth’s left that Alison turns to her pill box. She swallows an Oxy and a Xanax before going to the liquor cabinet. She wishes she had some Klonopin too. It’s so much easier to just float away. Alison takes a sizable swig of Smirnoff. The bottles say not to mix booze and pills, but the brunette is far past caring at this point. At least then the room will have a reason for spinning. At least then she can believe it’s not just her.

The alcohol burns as it slides down her throat. Alison relishes it. It reminds her that she’s alive. _Not like…not like—_ she can’t even finish it. _How did this become my life? What did I do to ever deserve this?_ Alison slides down, sees her reflection in the television screen across the room. She laughs, crying. _How do I even know the reflection is real? **I’m** not real. _ And if she’s not real, it doesn’t matter if she keeps drinking. It doesn’t matter at all.

 

Over the next month, she and Beth keep in close contact. Alison thinks the other woman is onto something big, but the detective is secretive about it. “It’s to protect you, Alison,” she says. “You and your family.” Alison wonders why Beth never talks about protecting herself. She worries her clone doesn’t care.

It shocks her when Beth shows up to her door late one night, blood on her shirt. She had sounded shaken when she had called to tell Alison she was coming, but the concerned woman had never expected _this._ She stands in a stupor as Beth starts to talk, hoarsely.

“I killed her, Al,” she rasps. “I killed a woman today. I shot her. Oh shit, oh _god…_ ” Alison ushers her inside, looking around to check no one heard, even if it is well past nightfall. She holds Beth’s shoulders in her hands and looks her in the eyes. They’re red already.

“Beth,” she whispers. “Beth, what happened? Who was it? Are you okay?”

“Maggie Chen,” the detective manages. “Her name was Maggie Chen. She never knew it was coming. She was unarmed. But I _had_ to Ali, I had to.”

Alison feels alarm bells ringing in her head. “Are you in trouble? Does anyone know?”

“Art helped me cover it up. My partner. He thinks I was popping pills. And I have, Ali, but I was sober for this. I was there. And I can’t stop seeing it.” Beth starts to crumple, sobbing. Alison sinks to the floor and pulls the other woman to her. She holds her head in her lap as she sobs.

“Shhhhh, shhhhh,” she soothes, running her fingers through Beth’s hair. “It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.” Alison doesn’t know if she’s lying or not. She hopes she isn’t. For once, her mind is perfectly clear. Beth must have done this to protect them. Beth will keep her safe. Everything will be fine as long as Beth’s around.

 

Alison feels contented the next few months. She trusts Beth, and nothing bad has happened again. She imagines the woman Beth shot must have been the killer. Beth hasn’t told her, but who else could it be? Everything is safe now, and although Alison is still not happy about being a cl— _genetic identical,_ she is glad that it brought the detective into her life. Things are starting to settle down back into normalcy. She’d given Cosima her tissue samples, she’d set up the information fund in Beth’s name, and she had agreed to allow all four of them (including Katja) to meet in her house to discuss what would happen moving forward.

Beth has started to be a little more erratic, a little more secretive, but Alison wills herself not to see. _The shooting probably affected her,_ she thinks, _but Beth is one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay._ Alison’s able to jump back into her old life, thanks to Beth, gossiping with Aynsley, coaching Oscar’s soccer team and Gemma’s figure skating class, even trying to iron things out with Donnie. Her world had been rocked, but nothing could destroy her tranquility now. She’d already been through the worst, after all. Yes, everything will be just perfect. Alison knows it.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, Alison. I always found her descent into paranoia and instability fascinating, and wanted to explore it in depth. I really wanted to build her relationship with Beth, because it seems like she started becoming more unhinged after learning of her death. I also wanted to show her relationship with Ansley, because I think what happens between them is pretty tragic. Also, as a former barista I just had to put in what Alison and Beth's drink order would be. Parts 2 and 3 should be up within the week! Stay tuned :)


End file.
